


burning up (need you now)

by ToAStranger



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Begging, Choking, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fuck Or Die, Gags, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: Billy's been hit with something and Steve has to help him through it.





	burning up (need you now)

**Author's Note:**

> This one gets its own section because WOOF did it take a lot outta me to write. From my kink prompt fills.

Billy’s broken out into a sweat by the time Steve gets him back to his house and up the stairs. He’s shaking, panting, eyes blown out and skin flush. Steve doesn’t know what to _do_. 

Luckily, _maybe_, he doesn’t have too long to think about it. Because the second Steve gets him to his room, Billy is _on him_. Shoving him against the wall beside his bedroom door, muscling him up against it, kissing him so hard his lips tingle and burn. 

“Billy, _what_–?” Steve gasps, pushing at his shoulders; it’s not the first time they’ve gotten handsy, not at all, but Billy seems _out of his mind_. “Billy, _stop_–” 

“Uh uh,” Billy hisses, and his hands are already going for Steve’s pants, working the fly open. “I need you. Right now.” 

“_What_?” Steve blinks, and then his pants are down around his ankles and catching on his shoes. “Billy, whatever shit you got sprayed with down in those tunnels has you _messed up_–” 

“Steve,” Billy snaps. “I know what the fuck I want.” 

Steve swallows. His eyes are wide on Billy’s face. On the sweat rolling down from his temple. On his wide pupils, blown out so bad they practically consume the blue. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “Okay. What do you need?” 

“Your mouth,” Billy says, and then he’s gripping Steve’s jaw and pressing his thumb past his lips, holding Steve’s tongue down. “Wanna fuck your mouth. Feel like– fuck, feel like I’m gonna _die_ if I don’t have you.” 

Steve wonders, faintly, if maybe he _will_. 

He drops to his knees. Billy groans and gets a hand in Steve’s hair. Palms himself, in front of Steve’s face, hands shaking. 

Steve stares up at him. “Go ahead. Take what you need.” 

Billy unbuckles his pants and undoes his fly. His cock is already hard, already leaking, when he pulls it out. The scent of it, the musk, is dizzying. 

Billy doesn’t give him a chance to prepare himself. Doesn’t let the impossibility of it all settle into Steve head before he jerking him forward and pressing the head of his cock to Steve’s lip. Pressing in, in, _in_. Filling his mouth. Pulling at his hair and pressing at his head, burying into the hilt with one, long, unrelenting thrust. 

Steve sputters, eyes prickling with tears, gagging. He chokes, throat burning, and pushes at Billy’s thighs– but Billy. Billy’s already _gone_. 

Steve can’t pull free. Can’t fight him off. Doesn’t even really _want to_. And Billy’s moving. Fucking his mouth, his throat, using him without regard for anything else. His cock is hard and thick, heavy on Steve’s tongue. The taste of his precum smears against it, makes it tingle, and his own cock twitches between his legs. 

He goes to reach for it. Goes to stroke himself off while Billy fucks his throat. But Billy’s snarling and yanking at his hair, so hard that Steve yelps, and telling him _no_. 

“Don’t,” Billy says. “You can’t. Don’t–don’t touch yourself.” 

Steve doesn’t understand it, but he guesses he doesn’t _need to_. Billy needs this, whatever this is, and Steve’s willing to give it to him. He lets out a muffled down, sucking at Billy’s cock the best he can, with spit already rolling down his chin.

Billy seems to get the message. 

Both his hands grip at Steve’s head. His hips start bucking forward faster. Steve feels his throat protest. Tears fall freely down his face, rolling down his cheeks, as he braces his hands at Billy’s thighs. As Billy’s cock fills his mouth over and over and _over_ until Steve’s lightheaded. 

Then– Then Billy’s holding him down, nose pressed to the curls at the base of his cock, buried deep and _pulsing_. Cumming down his throat. He keeps him there, holds him like that, fingers fisted in his hair as he groans and shakes through it. 

Steve can’t _breathe_. Can’t focus. His vision blurs at the edges as Billy keeps him like that, his cock still hard, bulging in Steve’s throat until–

Steve comes back to himself as Billy’s stripping him. He realizes, distantly, that he must’ve _passed out_ like that, with Billy down his throat. He’s limp, useless, as Billy pulls him free of his clothes and pushes him down onto the floor. As Billy drops to his knees behind him and pulls him up by the hips until his ass is in the air. 

“What–?” Steve’s voice cracks, throat sore, head heavy. “Billy?” 

“S’not enough,” Billy tells him, kissing up his spine, and Steve gasps in ragged and helpless as slick fingers slip between his cheeks. “Sorry. It’s not enough.” 

Steve swoons. He blinks, dazedly, slowly. Tries to find something to anchor himself as he looks up and finds himself, with Billy behind him, in the full length mirror by his closet. 

He looks fucked out. Used. Mouth red. There’s spit and cum down his chin. As he pushes up onto his elbows, moaning when Billy’s fingers start to ease inside, he can see his cock hanging between his legs, weeping precum and achingly hard. 

“Billy, please,” Steve breathes.

But Billy’s not hearing him. Not listening. Instead, he’s shoving three fingers into Steve and slicking him up as he jerks forward and moans. Instead, he’s shuffling closer on his knees, coating his cock with his other hand. 

“Gotta,” Billy pants, shaking his head a little, meeting Steve’s gaze in the mirror. “Gotta fill you up. Okay? You okay?” 

Steve groans. “Yeah. Yeah, just– just do it.” 

And then Billy’s fingers are gone and he’s pressing in. Cock still so hard. Still so hot. Just as relentless as when he filled Steve’s mouth. Spreading him wide in one smooth stroke. Impaling Steve on his cock. 

Steve moans as he watches Billy’s head fall back in bliss in the mirror. 

He seems to savor it, for a moment, and then– then he starts moving. Gets a hand in Steve’s hair and pulls his head back, forcing his spine into a sharp arch, hips lurching into motion. He slams in, the pace hard and fast and so deep. Steve’s eyes roll back for a second as he clutches, uselessly, at the carpet. 

It seems endless. Billy, moving inside of him, taking him as he holds Steve steady. Billy gripping him by the hair and reaching under him to curl his fingers around the base of Steve’s cock when his voice pitches higher. Keeping him there, gliding on that knife’s edge, never quite reaching the peak of it all. 

And Billy– Billy just keeps fucking him. 

Steve’s knees and the palms of his hands and elbows are raw and irritated. His head is gone, lost in a miasma of pleasure and a hint of pain. In the way Billy keeps moving inside of him and _cumming_ and then _moving again_. Billy’s spend is dribbling down his thighs and Steve is _crying_, _begging_ as Billy _keeps going_. 

Soon, that’s all there is. Just Billy, behind him in the mirror, skin glistening and muscles flexing. Just Billy, _inside of him_, so much. Just Billy, keeping him on the edge of bliss, keeping him totally out of his mind as he _babbles_. 

“Please,” he gasps. “_Pleasepleaseplease, Billy, please, I can’t– _I can’t– _please_–” 

But then, finally– _finally_– after Steve’s pretty sure he blacked out again at some point, Billy’s shifting. Letting go of his cock and scooping Steve up onto his knees, holding him flush against his chest. Getting a hand over Steve’s throat while the other grips his jaw, two fingers sliding past his lips and pressing his tongue down as his hips snap forward again, again, _again._

“Almost there,” Billy tells him, breath hot in his ear, eyes burning and so blue in the mirror as he _watches_. “Almost there, baby, promise. Come on, cum for me.” 

And honestly, Steve doesn’t need much. But there’s _so much_. Billy filling his ass with his cock, his mouth with his fingers gagging Steve’s pleas, a hand on his throat stealing his breath. 

All it takes is one well-placed thrust and Steve’s _sobbing_. Crying out and shaking to pieces, cock spurting out so hard it _hurts_. 

Billy fucks him through it. Keeps him gagged and choked and impaled on his dick. Groans low and deep in his ear as Steve clutches at his forearms. As Steve’s vision goes blurry, blurry, _black _and Billy finally– _fucking finally_– cums again and unloads into him. 

As he stills. As Steve slumps and gasps and comes too with his head throbbing. As Billy pants and kisses at his shoulder and eases up on his throat before Steve can fully pass out. 

They’re shaking. Messy. Totally wrecked. Billy slumps back onto his ass and pulls Steve with him. 

Steve whines. 

“Sorry,” Billy says, and pulls his fingers free of Steve’s mouth. 

When he meets Steve’s gaze in the mirror, he looks _tired. _But he doesn’t look out of his mind. 

“You okay?” Billy asks, voice ruined. 

Steve’s voice is _gone_. He nods. 

Billy eases his fingers through his hair, gentle, and cradles him close. “I’m so fucking– I’m so _sorry–” _

Steve shakes his head, takes one of Billy’s hands in both of his even though he’s _trembling_– violently and unabashedly– and kisses his palm. “_S’okay_,” he whispers. 

“You sure?” Billy asks, kissing his cheek, turning Steve’s face with a careful hand on his cheek. “I didn’t hurt you?”

Steve shrugs. A little, yeah. But. But it was _good_. 

He can’t say that, though. So, instead, he presses a sweet kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth. 

Billy, when he smiles, tired and lopsided, seems to get the message. 


End file.
